The KingShield Knight
by Veronica Lacroix
Summary: When Peter is called back to Narnia along with his best friend, Jack, he expects danger, mayhem and war. He doesn't expect to discover what he had all along in the other world - Jack. Peter/OC. Rated Mature for later chapters.
1. Prologue:  The Girl

**Disclaimer:** The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters belong to C.S. Lewis and I hold no claim.

**Author's Note:** Can I just begin by saying thank you for not overlooking this fiction! Really. I know a lot of readers (myself included) disregard stories with original character pairings, and I've only written one one other time (in the LotR fandom) but for some reason, this particular idea grabbed me and would not let go. I really enjoyed creating Jack and this story and I really liked delving into the minds of a character I hadn't before - Peter. I might caution that the story may seem campy or just strange in the beginning, but I assure you that it will pick up. Also, that although the story is movieverse (for aesthetic reasons), the characterization is bookverse as much as possible.

With all that said, I hope you enjoy the tale and my character. And please, please, please review!

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><p>Jack Hopewell was a conundrum.<p>

She was quite possibly the most infuriating, aggravating, annoying girl Peter Pevensie had ever met and yet... the only person outside of his siblings he was willing to call his best mate.

In the past three and a half years, he'd established quite a close relationship with the girl. Many of the boys his age thought that this was a friendship borne from pity, as she had effectively ended most relationships before they even began.

The reason for this being that she was unlike most of the girls at St. Finbar's; stranger still, she was a lot different than the boys at Hendon House. But to the Pevensies', she was like a breath of fresh air... if that air had a mind of its own.

How she and Peter ended up being so close was beyond anyone's imagination. Though Peter and his siblings were sometimes considered an oddity, Jack was so odd that she became a 'commodity'. Yet Peter wouldn't have had her any other way.

**Number One:** Jack was not like normal girls, obviously. For instance, she liked to be called 'Jack' and not her given name 'Jacqueline' and anyone who deviated from this was given a prompt punch in the gut or a kick in the shin. She also thoroughly enjoyed wearing pants and even tried to petition St. Finbar's to include slacks as an option in their uniforms. To other girls, it seemed that she cared very little about her appearance as she rarely wore makeup, her hair down or painted her nails_._

**Number Two:** Jack was American. A true to the bone, solid American. She had come to live in England with a distant cousin after her parents divorced. She originally hailed from California, which meant she spoke with a fast-talking, bright, western accent. She would often tell the Pevensies about the beaches there and midnight dances and Hollywood movie stars. Lucy and Edmund listened most avidly to these stories, being young and impressionable_._

**Number Three: **Jack was opinionated and she never apologized for it. In a time where girls usually kept their opposing thoughts to themselves, Jack voiced them... and loudly. If she didn't like something, you knew about it and were quick to reconcile whatever was wrong or again, you'd be given a punch in the gut or a kick in the shin.

**Number Four:** Jack was fearless. She would do anything if you dared her to, and more often than not, she'd succeed at it with reckless grace. Girls were often trying to humiliate her at school, daring her to speak curse words in French, cross the road and eat lunch with the Hendon House boys, and the like. She did it all flawlessly and accepted the repercussions with a Jack-like smile in the face of her frustrated bullies.

**Number Five: **And possibly the most perplexing of all was that Jack had charm. Once you got past the fierce personality, the dominating nature and the unconventionality of her, she was an amazing girl. Few others than the Pevensies ever got to see this side of her. The part of her that was generous, protective, honest and daresay, benevolent.

But now, he watched as Jack, his best friend, laughed easily with his sister and her beau. Susan hung on her arm, showing off her masterpiece to the boy Thomas.

And it _was_ a masterpiece. The black charmeuse dress hung just off her shoulders, accentuating her long neck, hugging her curves until it stopped just above her knees to show off her long legs. Her deep chestnut-colored hair was down — a miracle – and curled down to the neckline. Susan made her lips as fresh as ripe cherries and darkened the lines around her eyes, making the hazel of her irises stand out.

Before this, Peter had no idea of the girl that was underneath those sharp features and loose trousers. It wasn't that he thought Jack was unattractive; it was that she'd never given him any inkling of how _very_ attractive she _could_ be. Standing just off to the side, just on the edge of conversation, Peter was able to appreciate Jack.

Ever since they'd first met on the fateful in the Hendon House schoolyard, she never ceased to surprise him. He'd watched her grow — and it was clear that she'd come a long way from the girl who pretended to beat him up in the schoolyard — but he hadn't seen her as_ such_ a woman before. How did he miss it? She was a perfect example of a phrase 'a diamond in the rough'.

When Susan and Thomas abandoned Peter and Jack for some private company, Jack looked at him, grinning widely. It was incredible to see her so happy, especially since she'd been bargained into coming in the first place. "You wouldn't leave your best friend alone at the mercy of a dozen strange girls, would you?" Susan had told her with a sly look in her eye. Hesitantly, Jack obliged and allowed herself to be at Susan's mercy.

Peter offered his arm to her and Jack slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. Peter didn't miss the longing glances of his male peers. She didn't seem to pay any attention to them. A different Jack would've stormed over, and not-so-politely asked them to stop staring at her. Narnia had changed this girl.


	2. The Fight

**Disclaimer:** Most of this belongs to C.S. Lewis

**Author's Note:** Ah, characterization. It's the part that's most fun about writing a story. Hope you enjoy it! And please review.

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><p>Peter Pevensie met Jack Hopewell under auspicious conditions. It had been a dismal January morning at the Hendon House. The snow was thick on the ground and the sky was a churning, bleak grey. As usual, Peter had bundled himself up for lunch. Lunch was a social gathering, and Peter preferred not to associate himself with most of the Hendon boys. He found them brash and immature, and too often he clashed with their type. So, the young Pevensie ate lunch outside every day, come snow, hell or high water.<p>

On this day, the girls had been plotting a way to undo the Hopewell girl. Stealing her shoes hadn't worked. Gluing her seat hadn't worked. They needed something that would really get her into trouble. The girls were far too classy to get their own hands dirty; they were looking for a way to have someone else to their dirty work for them.

The girl was violent. They learned that quickly in History once when they had stolen her book. Beatrice wondered if her wrist would ever feel the same after that beastly girl twisted it so. And yet, what better way to_ really_ get her in trouble than a fight? But the Finbar girls didn't fight, that was something only boys did. Then it hit them. How delicious would it be if she were get into fight with a _boy_? And so their plan went into motion.

On the bet that she'd receive three pounds if she managed to come back alive, Jack snuck past the gate of St. Finbar's, looking for a prospective opponent. She was certain that she could take a good portion of the boys from Hendon House with one arm tied behind her back and so she boldly crossed the street. But how to instigate such a match?

Peter saw the girl enter Hendon grounds and was immediately confused. What was a girl doing here during school hours? He abandoned his lunch and crossed the yard.

"Hey!" Peter called and the girl froze in her tracks and whirled around to face him. "Are you lost?"

"No, of course not," the girl answered. He instantly recognized that she had a accent and that it was clearly American.

"Well, what are you doing here?"

"Looking for a fight," she answered smoothly, as if it were the most natural answer in the world. There was a pause and then Peter broke out into a fit of laughter.

"I'm sorry," Peter choked out as the girl frowned at him for laughing as if she'd made a joke. "For a moment, I thought you were being serious!"

"I am being serious!" The girl's face hardened even more, planting her hands on her hips. Peter stopped laughing, appraising the weird girl with a baffled expression.

"All right, see those girls over there?" And she jerked her head across the street where Peter saw three girls standing just inside the gate at St. Finbar's. "They bet me three pounds that I couldn't beat up a boy."

"Three pounds?"

"Oh, _and_ the shining reputation for being the best fighter at school," she added with an awed grin.

"Um.." Peter seemed to be at a loss for words. This may have well been the strangest girl he ever met — or ever would meet — in his entire life.

"Aha!" The girl pushed up her jacket sleeves and Peter took a step back. "Do you want to fight me?"

"I — I'd rather not," said Peter precariously as she approached him with her fists raised.

"You're not scared, are ya?"

"No, but... but you're a girl!"

"So what?" she shrugged and the grin returned. "Come on, I'll go easy on you."

"Wait just a mo —" But Peter was stopped by a quick right to the abdomen that immediately doubled him over. She sure could hit hard. Suddenly Peter pitied anyone who got on her bad side, and then wondered how _he_ had accomplished that. Holding his stomach, he stood straight again. He managed to block her next blow with his forearm, but was sure he'd have a bruise.

"Well, come on! Take a swing!"

"I won't fight you!" Peter said incredously. Was the girl stark raving mad? She pouted at him, dropping her fists.

"Why not?"

"Are you..." Peter just could not wrap his head around this. He may have been in some strange situations, but this had to have topped them all. The girl actually looked upset at the fact that he wouldn't punch her back.

"Hey! I have an idea!" And just as instantly as she'd been down, she brightened again. "If you at least pretend to fight me, I'll split the three pounds with you."

"What?"

"I promise!" the girl promptly crossed her heart. There was apparently no arguing with her.

"Fine. Deal," Peter agreed half-heartedly, then raised his own fists. She advanced on him again, feighting with her left and then hitting him in the gut again. It was a great deal softer than her first hit, it didn't hurt at all. He began to canter back to her.

"You have to make it believable," she chastised when he tapped her in the shoulder. But Peter just couldn't believe he was in a hand-to-hand spar with a perfect female stranger. Jack noticed the hesitation and figured she'd have to carry this little act on her own. She lunged forward, catching his legs and pulling up hard.

"All you have to do is yell," the girl instructed after Peter fell flat on his back into the snow. She jumped on top of him, gently hitting his chest and cheeks. Peter yelled out for help, for the girl to stop and it took about three seconds for half of the Hendon House cafeteria to empty into the yard.

"What's going on here?" a teacher's voice boomed out from within the crowd of crowing boys. Peter and Jack had resorted to a fake wrestling match, rolling each other over and screaming to egg the group on. Finally the teacher broke through.

"Hold it there! Stop!" He yelled in outrage. He ran over and pulled Jack away by her shoulders. She fought him a moment, kicking and yelling and still reaching for Peter. He had to admit, the girl was a good actress.

"That's enough out of you!" The teacher announced, then tossed Jack over his shoulder. Passing Peter, she smiled brightly at him and winked.

"My name's Jack, by the way!" She called from the gate.

"I'm Peter!" he called back, despite thinking that this was an odd time for introductions. He watched as the teacher hauled her back to St. Finbar's where another teacher waited looking furious. Jack smiled at the haughty and disappointed-looking girls and rubbed her thumb against the pads of her fingers, the universal sign for money. She waved across the street at Peter before she was dragged inside by one of her arms.

A week later, when Jack's detention was up, she snuck across the road again. She placed a pound and a halfpence into Peter's hand and sat on the bench next to him. They ate lunch together and wondered aloud if she could make some real money out of play-fighting. They were friends ever since.


	3. The Call

**Disclaimer:** The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters belong to C.S. Lewis and I hold no claim.

**Author's Note:** In comparison to the previous chapter, I much prefer The Fight. I struggled with several different scenarios on how Jack would respond to Narnia and this was the best one. I felt that she needed to have _some_ knowledge of what was going on, since she is a young woman and not as trusting as the Pevensies were when they were children. Did it work? I hope so.

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><p>The summer was slightly bittersweet for Peter and Jack unfortunately. After spending the better part of three years together, at the end of August they would have to depart. They had both been accepted to different colleges; Peter in Cambridge, Jack in America. So they tended to spend every waking moment together, with promises that they'd visit for every holiday possible when they could afford it and write often.<p>

One Saturday afternoon, Peter had come home from helping his mother with groceries. Edmund was in the kitchen, sipping a glass of water, taking a break from croquet with Lucy and Susan.

"Hey, Ed, where's Jack?" Peter asked, setting a couple of bags onto the table. "Mum wants to know if she'll help with supper."

"Upstairs, reading I think."

Peter crossed the dining room, through the sitting room and climbed the flight of stairs to the second floor. He strode down to the end of the hall and into his room. There was she was. She sat in his chair, her slacks rolled up to the knee, her legs crossed on his desk and her nose in a book. But not just any book... Peter instantly recognized the red little journal she held.

"Hey, Peter," she said, not looking up. She gave a huff of argument when Peter quickly snatched the journal from her hands.

"What gives you the right?" Peter growled, tossing into a drawer and snapping it shut. Jack looked confused.

"Well, there isn't a huge selection here," she explained, standing. "And I didn't know it was something... personal. You should really hide those things, you know."

"You can't just go about looking through my private —"

"I didn't know, all right!" Jack threw up her hands. "Anyway, what is it? It sounds like a journal... but I've never heard of Cair Paravel or Aslan or any of that before."

"It's nothing," Peter lied cooly, crossing his arms. Jack narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"I've been reading it off and on for days now," Jack admitted and Peter's insides went cold. "High King Peter the Magnificent, huh?"

"Like I said," Peter shrugged, looking away. "Nothing. Just a game we all used to play when we were small."

"That you wrote about in a journal? Looked pretty detailed too, from what I gathered."

"Well," Peter cleared his throat. "I thought it might make a good story one day. Perhaps get it published, you know?"

"So it's _not_ private?" Jack raised a brow.

"No, not necessarily, but... you... " Peter trailed off, staring up at the ceiling. Jack followed his eyes, bewildered by his sudden silence.

"What is it, Pet –"

"Shh! Do you hear that?"

"I don't hear a thing," Jack said, staring at him with a mixed expression. Then he heard it again, clear as day. It was a soft, resonating tone. It was low, but it grew with every passing second. Then it was recognizable. He grabbed Jack's hand and dashed from his room, tugging her along behind him.

"What's going on, Peter?" Jack demanded as he dragged her down the stairs and through the sitting room.

"Susan! Edmund! Lucy!" Peter shouted as they crossed the kitchen to the back door. He pushed himself and pulled Jack through the door and saw his brother and sister on the other side of the yard.

"Peter!" Lucy called back. "Do you hear that? It sounds like —"

Peter felt the prickling and pinching all over his body as he and Jack ran across the yard. Then very suddenly, the scene changed before he could reach them. They were not running across grass any more, but rather a mossy terrain. Peter looked up to see they were in woods of some sort, and that it was no longer day, but night. Jack tripped over the root of a tree and was yanked out of Peter's grip, landing on her stomach onto the forest floor.

"What?" Jack cried out when she lifted her head. She looked around with wide eyes, unbelieving. "Oh. My. God."

"No, this can't be right," Peter muttered to himself, helping Jack to her feet again. She brushed herself off, still taking in the environment surrounding them.

"Peter... where are we?"

"I — um... I'm not sure," Peter said, looking around them as well. They were most definitely in a forest, that was obvious.

"Where's Susan? And Edmund? And Lucy?" Jack said, spinning around as if they might be behind them. "They just disappeared. What is going on?"

"I don't know, Jack," Peter answered, lying once more. He knew exactly what had happened; they had been called to Narnia. The sound he'd heard was Susan's horn. With a sinking feeling he realized that he was here alone for the first time, he hadn't been able to reach the others in time. Where in Narnia was a better question, and why in Narnia even better than that. He and Susan were told by Aslan that they were not to return... so how had he?

"Let's go back, all right?" Jack said, searching the ground like she would find some kind of trap door. There was a roll of thunder overheard and with came rain. An absolute downpour.

"I don't think we can go back," Peter said watching Jack. "At least not that way."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on," he said, ignoring her suspicious look and taking up her hand. "We need to find shelter from the storm, then we'll figure — figure out a way to get home."

Their bodies were soaked within moments. They trod through the muddy forest floor, squinting through the rain. Peter searched for a hollow tree, a small alcove in a rock, anything. They must have walked for at least an hour before Jack spotted a large tree that had fallen over, providing some little shelter.

They scrunched themselves under it, knees to their chests and pressed by side by side. Jack shivered, but she didn't complain. This relieved Peter somewhat, the last thing he wanted to deal with was a whiny girl. But she was pushing his buttons with other issues, issues that he didn't want to discuss.

"I'm not sure we should have left," Jack said, lacing her fingers in front of her legs. "What if we can't find our back after the storm?"

"It'll be all right," Peter muttered.

"Aren't you even a _little_ worried? Your sisters and brothers could be lost here somewhere!"

"I very much doubt it."

"You sound so sure," the distrustful tone slipped back into Jack's voice. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Jack, just —! " But Peter was interrupted by another voice, and it was close.

"Who goes there?" The stranger's voice rang out from behind them. "Show yourself!"

"Wha–" Peter clapped a hand over Jack's mouth as they turned around to see a small figure standing not a yard from them. Peter narrowed his eyes as he noticed the glint of a blade. When the figure turned around, the lantern light show upon its face. It was a badger.

"I'll have you know I'm armed and will not abide trespassing!" The badger brandished its short blade and Peter recognized him.

"Trufflehunter!" He called and the badger focused in on the direction where his voice came from. He shuffled forward, blade still raised until the light fell upon Peter and Jack.

"By Aslan!" he exclaimed, lowering the blade. "Peter, is that you?"

"Indeed," Peter uncovered Jack's mouth and they crawled out from under the tree. The badger sheathed his blade and bowed low before them.

"Your Majesty," he said before lifting himself up again.

"Majesty?" Jack said, puzzled. The badger then turned his attention to the sodden person next to his High King.

"And who, my king, is your friend?" Trufflehunter smiled. "He looks very confused."

"_Excuse me_? I'm not a boy!" Jack huffed. Peter laughed a bit.

"Her name is Jack — and this is Trufflehunter," Peter answered, gesturing accordingly. Jack was staring at Trufflehunter as if she'd never seen a badger before her in entire life. Peter excused this; he knew well that she'd never seen a _talking_ badger.

"Well, come inside," Trufflehunter waved toward his home, just across the path. "It won't do to stand out here much longer. They'll be looking for you, if you're here already. And where is Queen Susan, King Edmund and Queen Lucy?"

"They didn't make it, I'm afraid," Peter tugged on Jack's hand, but she didn't move. He stopped, turning his head to look at her. She looked quite frozen.

"This is good news, sire. But come, I'll explain everything to you inside."

"Jack? What's wrong?"

"King Peter?" Jack snatched her hand away from Peter, her eyes wide and disbelieving. "You've been lying to me... this whole time."

"Jack, I'm sorry —"

"No! Where _are_ we, Peter?" Trufflehunter looked up in concern at the girl, whose cheeks were reddening in anger. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"We're in Narnia —"

"You told me that it didn't exist! That it was just a game! You _were_ lying. I can't believe it! Why would you hide something like this from me? I would never –"

"Please, Jack, just come in and I can explain –"

"No! I'm not going anywhere with you _or_ that —" she stopped short, her moistening eyes falling upon Trufflehunter for a moment. She slapped Peter's hand away again with more force than she would have usually used with him. "I'm going home. Don't you ever speak to me again."

"Miss, I think if you just calm down –" Trufflehunter offered in his best soothing voice. Unfortunately it had the complete opposite reaction he was looking for. She jumped a step back, leaving the range of Peter's arms. He felt the sting of her hard eyes before she turned from them. Quicker than they could stop her, she took off running into the thick of the forest.

"Jack!" Peter yelled. "Wait!"

"No, Majesty!" Trufflehunter caught his pant leg before he could take off after her. "If they catch you, it'll be done for. _You're_ who they really want."


	4. The Wilderness

**Disclaimer: **This isn't mine, this is not for profit.

**Author's Note: **Ah, finally, the interesting chapters. Here's where my story starts getting good. Or at least, in my opinion. Mainly because I love Aslan (who doesn't?) and writing him was... challenging, to say the least. I hope I captured his way of speaking well because it was harder to make him frightening, authoritative and soothing at the same time. Another reason why Lewis was kind of a genius. Enjoy and please review!

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><p>The anger that fueled Jack's every step eventually depleted. She wasn't accustomed to running through thick and murky forests and it was hard to find your tracks in the dark and in the rain. Needless to say, she was <em>lost<em>. She couldn't turn back even if she wanted to now, she had come too far and there was no way she would find her way.

She regretted her decision to run from Peter now. The strength of that impulse was so great at the moment, it would have been hard to ignore. All she felt now was that bitter sting of betrayal that happens when you discover that the one closest to you had been keeping a gigantic secret from you. She had to read about it behind his back, and when confronted, he lied. Lied to her _face_.

Fury made her kick a small fallen branch out of her path. _Why_ would he do such a thing? She would never lie to him about anything and there was almost nothing he didn't know about her. Pausing to look up at the night sky, she wondered how far she would have to walk until she was home. If she could even get home by foot. The way Peter wrote it, they had come through a magic wardrobe – which could mean she wasn't even on Earth anymore.

She was somewhere in Narnia, only this was certain. And she hated it. Nothing about it was as mystical and beautiful as Peter described it in his journal. There was nothing out here – just her alone and the snapping of twigs and squelching of mud as she trod. She was cold, wet, hungry and absolutely miserable. She just wanted to go home.

Then she heard the heavy footfalls. It started from a distance at first, but grew steadily closer. She stopped for a moment, trying to pinpoint the direction in which it came from. It was running, that was clear by the rustling and the speed. It was headed straight for her.

She attempted to prepare herself. She had read about all sorts of creatures that resided in this place, from wild wolves to great monsters like the Minotaur. She pressed back against a wide tree and snatched a good sized rock from the ground.

The footfalls stopped, some couple of yards away. Whatever it was was hidden by the underbrush and was not moving. Holding the rock up and gripping it tightly, she called out, "Show yourself!"

"You are very brave, Daughter of Eve," a deep, low voice sounded. It was unlike any voice she'd ever heard before. "Lay down the stone, and I will come before you – have no fear."

"What are you?" She demanded, shaking the rock. The voice did not answer. It was waiting for her to do as it had asked, instead it answered her undeclared worry, "I will not harm you, child."

Hesitantly, she dropped the rock and it rolled a foot away from her. There it would have been easy to grab if this creature didn't keep its word. Then, in front of her wide and startled eyes, a lion - larger than any she'd ever seen - came out from behind the brush. He was golden and his fur seemed to emmanate a light of its own. It was the most glorious thing she'd seen in her entire life.

"You asked what I am," the Lion spoke. "I am Aslan."

"Aslan?" Jack's mouth fell open. "I – I read about you. In Peter's journal."

"I know you too. You are Jacqueline and you are lost in this country."

"Jack," She corrected him before thinking about it. Although the Lion was beautiful and seemed kind, something about him made her think he could be quite vicious.

"Come, Daughter of Eve," the Lion said softly. "I will lead you now."

And tentatively, Jack approached Aslan. Their shoulders were nearly equal height, and up close, she could see all the strong feline muscles of his back and legs. He could quite easily crush her if he wanted to. At her compliance, he nodded his great head. He began to walk forward and Jack followed alongside. He kept to a pace that she could easily meet and she was grateful.

"Take hold of my coat," Aslan offered gently. "It'll warm you up on our journey."

"Where are we going?" Jack asked, reaching up and wrapping her hands around his mane. It was warm, and she could feel the heat slowly climb through her hands to her arms.

"Archenland," Aslan answered. "There is a camp on the border of Narnia and that land where you must go."

"Why? And how do you know so much about me?"

"I called for you. When Queen Susan's horn was blown, I called for you as well. We're very lucky that King Peter's sisters and brothers did not answer the call."

"What would have happened if they made it here instead of me?"

"The very worst, child," and the Lion shook his head grimly. "They would have surely died."

"What?" Jack gasped. "But why? Someone would have killed them?"

"Yes. Men from the isle of Morcosta. They are terrible and fearsome pirates, but until now there has never been a reason for dissension between Morcosta and Narnia. Listen and I will tell you the whole of it:

Hundreds of years ago, after the Kings Peter and Edmund and the Queens Susan and Lucy left this world, the people of Telmar invaded Narnia. They drove many of the natives into the forests and the mountains, but most they hunted and killed. No Narnian was known to be left alive, not a faun or a talking beast or even a nymph. The Telmarines reigned for an age, until some seventeen years ago, the Telmarine King's wife bore a son, Prince Caspian X.

The young Prince never had a chance to know his own mother nor his father. Instead he was raised by his uncle, Lord Miraz, who after his brother's death, took charge over the land. And a plot was set against the Prince. When Miraz's own wife bore him a son and heir, Miraz sent his own men to kill the young Caspian, for without the Prince, Miraz's own son would inherit the throne.

By the grace of fate, Caspian was saved by his tutor and gave to him a horn of magical powers, Susan's own. If he were in mortal peril, he could blow it and bring back these ancient Narnian Kings and Queens. The tutor sent the Prince deep into the forest as Telmarines chased him. When he needed it most, Caspian blew the horn. Thus your friend Peter and his siblings were brought back from their world once more.

To the Prince's great surprise, Narnians had survived. And there were many of them. When he had called their old rulers, the Prince became the unlikely savior of Narnia and its people. Together, they brought down the rule of Miraz and Caspian was crowned king, both Telmarine and Narnian."

"Then they came back," Jack said. "Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy."

"Yes, they did. But the story is not over, my dear one. Caspian X has now been our King for three years. He has become more than I ever expected him to be, but there are those who are still loyal to old ways of Telmar. That still hold animosity for Narnia and its people. So from Caspian's own counsel, a man sought out the pirates of Morcosta. He knew of their savagery and their viciousness.

He made a deal with them – if they can be rid of the Narnians again, he will make one of their own a King of Telmar. And so another plot was conceived: replace Caspian. Now there is a Morcostine is who is claiming to be the true Caspian X. He claims that he was a changeling at birth by Miraz's doing to bring a false prince to the crown."

"But no one actually believes him, right?"

To this, the great Lion gave a sigh. "I do not think they do and that fact grieves me most. Their indolence has already caused a separation among the people."

"Are you going to save them?" Jack asked. She was warm enough now from head to toe that she could let go of Aslan's mane to walk in step with him. "The Narnians, I mean? In Peter's journal, it said you always turn up at the end."

"I cannot, not this time," Aslan said gravely. "This is not a war between countries - it is a feud between men. The Narnians have a great ruler - Caspian is becoming a great man, and the Telmarines who rebel must see this, or else they wouldn't be so adamant about replacing him. Caspian already knows the way to end this, and because of you, he will not stray from the path."

"Because of me?" Jack echoed incredously. "But he doesn't even _know_ me! What can I do?"

"You are already doing it. Because you have run away, Peter has sought help from Caspian. Peter will give Caspian the help he needs there, and then Caspian will bring Peter to you. He will not abandon you."

"Not like I abandoned him," Jack said sadly. She again regretted the choice to run away and now she realized that it was more out of fear and hurt than anything else. Then Aslan pressed his snout to her hand.

"Many people fear and hate the unknown – do not be brought down by it. In your heart of hearts, I believe that you can come to love this land and its people as I do, as Caspian does and as Peter does. If you will allow love to be your guide, you will never be lost in the wilderness again."

The sun was rising. Jack and Aslan had walked all night long, but her feet didn't feel tired at all. With a little more light, she could start to see the beauty in the giant trees, smell the perfume of the flowers and moss, and hear the scurrying of little animals.

"How will they find me in the middle of the forest?"

"You won't be in the middle of the forest, child. At the border of Narnia and Archenland, as I said before, is a camp. It is the camp of the Morcostines. You must go to them, and I pray that you forgive me for putting you into such danger."

"_What_?" Jack paused, looking around as if pirates must descend on them at any moment. Her eyes were wide and she took several steps away from Aslan. "_Why_? Why me?"

"I have brought you here not only because you are strong and brave, but also because you have great love in your heart. By coming here, you have already saved the lives of Susan, Edmund and Lucy, do you understand? The Morcostines blew Susan's horn to bring back the leaders of Narnia – to kill them, my dear one. Because what is a nation without its leaders?"

"But Peter –!"

"Was meant to come here as well."

Jack shuddered, thinking of what horrors might await her. "Aslan – am I – am I going to die?"

Aslan hung his head, his yellow eyes closing. He had the expression like a man would wear in deepest sorrow and pain. He breathed, "I surely hope that you do not and once more, I ask for your forgiveness. Because they will certainly aim to defeat you."

"Wha – what am I supposed to do?" Jack tried to keep her voice from cracking. She breathed heavier than normal and her hands shook. She didn't understand any of this and it was all too much to try to take in.

"Be as brave and as strong as you ever were," Aslan said, raising his head. "Speak nothing of what I have told you, and tell them nothing of the Kings and Queens. You will see other Narnians going through what you will be put through – comfort them. Let them know their king is coming. You _can_ do this, Jack – I have faith in you."

Aslan stepped closer and Jack put her arms around his neck, laying her cheek against his mane. In spite of the fact that she'd only known him for a handful of hours, that he was a speaking Lion of all things and that he had possibly led her to her death, she somehow knew she had to trust Aslan. The sun was now above the horizon, driving away the cool early morning mists. In a whisper, she said, "I wish I had told Peter how I — how I –"

"He will know in time," Aslan responded although she hadn't gotten to say what she was thinking. For some reason, she had the feeling that Aslan already knew. "Courage now, Daughter of Eve — this is where I must leave you."

And the Lion drew away, leaving Jack on what seemed to be a wide, broken-in path. She watched as he disappeared behind the trees. Then she turned toward the direction in which they were heading. It wasn't long before she heard voices. They came upon her like phantoms; she didn't even have a chance to run before a man grabbed her and placed a bag over her face, blinding her.


	5. The Riot

**Disclaimer: **I claim no ownership, aside from the plot and my original character.

**Author's Note: **This is my favorite chapter to date! In fact, it was this specific chapter (and a later one) that made me create the story. I had _so_ much fun writing it, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it! Side-note, if you're interested, check out the song "Born To Quit" by The Used - the song that inspired this chapter.

* * *

><p>"My King," the Doctor Cornelius said, quietly, though it echoed in the near vacant throne room. He leaned forward from his chair, to face his lord and master. "What are you going to do?"<p>

It was this very same question that the young King Caspian X was attempting to answer for himself. Outside of this room, the castle was in an uproar. In the courtyard, tensions rose to open debates. Heated words made heated faces made heated hands. Moments from now there would be a fight, a near battle between his subjects.

Caspian sat in his throne, his palm over his forehead. His mind was a churning sea of confusion, of betrayal and of worries. He could feel the deepness of the furrow in his brow. Lord Ignatio, one of his most trusted advisors — he was now a traitor. He had been plotting to bring Caspian as soon as the crown had touched his head. There was a part of Caspian that wanted to bring the brigandto justice, to have his head mounted on a spike for all of Narnia to see.

He was Caspian X after all. He should have learned better than to trust those in his own court. Miraz should've taught him a better lesson in how close betrayals can come. But _he_ was King, _not_ Miraz and _not_ this imposter claiming that he was the rightful ruler of the land. If not for Caspian, the Narnians would still be in hiding, dodging evermore from the tyranny of the Telmarines. Because of him, they lived in peace side by side... Or at least he thought. How could _this_ possibly get the best of him? He had been ordained by Aslan himself — who would dare to challenge the Great Lion's judgment?

At Cornelius's words, he raised his head from his hand. He breathed a heavy sigh, feeling so much more aged than his years would convey. He briefly observed those around him, the few that were standing by his side. Cornelius, the dwarf Trumpkin and the badger Trufflehunter. The Doctor, though he was a Telmarine by rights, was a Narnian by blood. He had been Caspian's tutor since he was a small boy; always treated him with a firm but kind and loving hand. But even his gentle face was marked with worry.

"Caspian," The King turned his face to look on an old friend, the High King Peter. He was sitting on the edge of his chair, looking at Caspian with utter sympathy. He was the only other person in the entire room who could understand the position he was in — he was a young King once before. There was a timeless wisdom in his words, a recall of his golden days when he had reigned the land a thousand years ago. Peter's voice was soft, he was close enough to Caspian that he needed not announce his thoughts to the rest of them. "We're all behind you, whatever decision you make, but time is short. Doing _something_ is better than doing nothing."

There was truth in this, the seconds ticked away quickly. His council looked at him, apprehensively. He had few choices to resolve this civil dispute. If he challenges Lord Ignatio and he wins, there is _still _the chance that those rebelling Telmarines will side with the Morcostines and at the loss of their middle-man, he will surely be bringing a war to their doorstep. But if Caspian should fail — he will have effectively handed Narnia over to the pirates.

"We could hide your Majesty," Trufflehunter suggested humbly. All heads turned toward the badger. "To protect you from Ignatio and those rebels."

"You're not suggesting that the King is afraid, are you?" Cornelius said incredously.

"No! No, of course not!" Trufflehunter bowed his head apologetically. No one dared to argue the courage of Caspian. "I'm merely voicing my concerns for your safety, Highness."

"One Narnian doesn't outweigh the fate of the rest of us," Peter said, to which Trufflehunter nodded sadly. Caspian didn't ripple at this harsh fact; he had been pondering the same thing. He couldn't be accountable for the ruin of his kingdom because he treasured his own life.

"We're running out of time, my lord," Trumpkin said, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. The dwarf never was much for simple council, he was a man of action. Caspian nodded to him mutely; he could not sit in his throne room forever.

Caspian stood and with him followed four of his closest friends. He had to be objective about this situation; he was no longer a little prince under the shadow of authority. He was King, and he had to be strong to carry the weight of his rule — Narnians and Telmarines' lives depended upon his ability to be a good king. His palm covered the hilt of the sword at his side, the touch of steel against his skin giving him solidarity.

He smoothed his brow and set his jaw, focusing on the task at hand. This was not the time for questions of what may be, he needed to answer what he can do. He had a love for his people and land as only a great ruler could. He would not see all of his vision, all of his ambition, all of his dreams fall by the wayside as he cowered in fear from this faceless 'true' Caspian X.

"Trumpkin," Caspian was grateful his voice had found that steadiness once more. "Tell the dungeon guard to prepare a cell. We will be holding Ignatio and his cohorts there for a while."

The red Dwarf nodded curtly and scurried away, then the King turned toward Trufflehunter and Cornelius. "Alert my general and assemble a party. By sundown, we'll leave for the Morcostine camp. We need to find this so-called Caspian and stop this before it gets any more out of hand. And we need to find the High King's friend."

"Yes, sire," Cornelius showed a smile as Peter clapped a grateful hand onto Caspian's shoulder before bowing and retreating from the room, Trufflehunter by his side. Caspian looked at Peter, his childhood role model, his idol, now his brother-in-arms. The calm-and-collectiveness he read in Peter's clear eyes gave him balance and confidence.

"Peter," he said, offering his arm to the High King. "Though I didn't call you, and it may be disaster that you _are_, for the moment, I am glad you are here. Will you help me - again?"

"I'm with you," Peter grinned, gripping Caspian's arm and shaking it once. Together they strode out of the throne room and into the greater hall. When they neared the castle courtyard, the King stole a glance at Peter's face. It portrayed no fear. In fact, Caspian could not recall a time when he had shown his fear outwardly. Not even when he was on the brink of defeat at Miraz's hand.

The Magnificent King knew well the price of being a monarch. That every day was a challenge, a test of your strength and good will. Even in times of peace, a king must always be vigilant and ready to face anything that might disrupt that peace which you bought at a high price. Caspian arose from the ashes of treachery, of lies and of hate to bring about a world without tyranny, a country of freedom. Lord Ignatio had plotted against just as his uncle had — but he could not let this get the best of him.

Steeling himself against the animosity he was sure to see on the faces of his subjects, he threw open the wide wooden door. Caspian may be fighting a losing battle, but he would not go down that easily. These pillagers from the isle of Morcosta, this self-proclaimed true Crown Prince of Telmar, they will all rue the day they dared to impugn on his reign.

"Lord Ignatio," the King said calmly but loudly, cutting into a rousing speech to the citizens made by the traitor. "Stand down now, depart and I promise you and your men will have mercy."

Those in the courtyard raised their voices and their fists at this. Peter, standing at Caspian's elbow, tensed — his knuckles went white as they curled around the hilt of his sword. Ignatio, a few yards from the Kings turned to face them. He must have felt himself so far above them now that he didn't even bow in their presence. Instead he laughed, "_Mercy_? Before the week is out, my liege, I am confident that _you_ will be begging for _my_ mercy!"

"I beg for nothing, except that you not force me to take the lives of my own people."

"Telmarines!" Ignatio raised his palms to the courtyard. "Our King claims to be one of us, and yet — he forces us to live with these _beasts_, these _savages_, and we must still pay homage to Kings and Queens that existed long before us — rulers that are not even older than our own false Caspian. Will you continue to follow him down this path of ruin? Or will you _stand_, stand with those who will do justice by you?"

"Handle the guard," Caspian muttered to Peter. "This crowd has to be separated — tell them to arrest anyone who doesn't cooperate."

Caspian grit his teeth and drew his blade. He concentrated only on Lord Ignatio, preparing himself to duel. "If you'll not stand down, I will end you as the law dictates."

"To the death, my lord?" Ignatio chuckled as Caspian advanced upon him, then drew his own sword. Then he added under his breath so that only Caspian could hear, "You make it only too easy to supplant you."

Dozens of eyes watched as the young King Caspian engaged into single battle with Ignatio, who had long been at his sire's court. Steel smashed against steel, narrow misses cut shallowly through fabric and skin. The guard made fast work of the rioters, every man seemed to be in their own little duels.

"Ah," Ignatio grunted as he fell to the ground, but warded off Caspian by delivering a swift kick to the kneecap. "You are strong and brave, sire but that is not what we doubt."

"What do you doubt? What are you fighting for?" Caspian breathed out as they circled each other once more, waiting for the strike.

"A better land, a better king," Ignatio spat as if it should be obvious. "You... you doubt the same things. I spent a long time in council with you. You rely on the strength and intelligence of others because you doubt _yourself_."

"I _am_ Caspian!"He cried, thrusting his blade forward. Turning, Ignatio managed to avoid the slice, then countered back on him.

"_Are you_?" Ignatio's eyes burned with hatred. They were two black orbs, staring at his King with opposition that Caspian recognized as Miraz's. It put him in a vise grip; he could not look away. "You never knew your mother, your father died when you were nothing but a babe — how can you be _so_ sure that you are Caspian X?"

The words seeped through Caspian's clothes, into his skin, into his very blood and made it run cold. He hesitated for the slightest of moments, allowing Ignatio to bring him into a sword lock. There was no lie in Ignatio's face, no smirk, no arrogance. He truly believed that the young man he served was not his rightful king.

Was it possible that this conspiracy ran that deep? That Caspian's undoing had been planned at birth? No one would argue Miraz's thirst for power — but no one would have expected this amount of forethought. That should he fail, he would _still_ manage to bring Caspian down in the end.

He could suddenly see that plan in its entirety. First, the mother who would instantly recognize a changeling. Do away with her quickly and silently and tell the King that she died in childbirth. Then the child. Take a foreign boy of no royal blood, no political standing and make him a crown prince. And when the King suspected, take care of him as he slept. Raise him before the country as Caspian X. And then by some stroke of luck, a son was born and no more need for the false prince... and should everything else fail, bring back the true Caspian.

But _why_? That was a greater question. What had he done to deserve this? If his whole life had been a tangled web of lies — how could he ever find the truth?

"You're nothing, little King," he hissed like a serpent.

Drawing up his knee, Caspian delivered a kick to Ignation's abdomen, pulling out of the sword lock. With the fist he was using to grip his sword, he struck the lord in the jaw. The stunned man staggered back, his sword arm lowering.

To say that he was _nothing_ was to say the very worst of Caspian X. To say that not only was he _undeserving_ of the crown he wore, that he was _unworthy_ to lead his people, but also that he was much_ less_ than a man. It stabbed him where his insecurities and his vulnerability laid, deep down inside.

Before he knew what had taken over him, Caspian lunged upon Ignatio, knocking him to the ground. He gave a fierce cry as he slammed his arm against the lord's, disarming him. Rage clouded his vision and he was seeing Ignatio for the slithering snake he truly was. The King hit him over and over again, crushing his fist against the man's face. He continued hitting him, even as his knuckles were growing numb.

Then he wasn't really seeing Ignatio at all. He was seeing the traitors, conspiring behind his back - their nasty whispers echoing in his ringing ears. He was seeing the usurper, the Morcostine. He was seeing his would-be murdered, Lord Miraz. He was seeing the father he never knew. He wouldn't have stopped, if not for a pair of hands drawing him away.

"Caspian!" A voice said at his ear. Peter tugged him away and the King looked down at his hands, the blood from a few of his own split knuckles mixing with that of Ignatio's. He hadn't realized that he'd been on the verge of tears this whole time. His chest was heaving, the breaths coming in sharply and shallowly.

He bade a glance down at Lord Ignatio. He was at his feet, half of his face showing the beginning of some heavy bruising. His left eye was already swelling shut underneath the cut at his brow. Peter dragged Caspian away as a guard ran over to secure Ignatio.

"Lock him in the dungeon!" Caspian ordered in a scream, still restrained by Peter. "Along with his men!"

He ripped himself away from the other King's clutches, storming away from the courtyard. He pushed himself through the door with a little more force than was necessary and called for a servant to bring a basin of water to the council chamber. He fumed as he made long strides to said chamber, his mind still reeling from the exchange with Lord Ignatio.

How could he have had the audacity to presume that he was _weak_? By Aslan's mane, he was _King_, the one person in all the nation that absolutely demanded respect. Ignatio should have praised his every step for bringing all of Telmar out of the tyranny Miraz had conducted. So Caspian had beat him for his treachery, for his insolence, for daring to concoct the plan that would make him an outcast and bring a false King to the throne.

The servant and King Peter came to the chamber at precisely the same time. He ignored the questioning look on the former sovereign's face, and dropped his hands into the basin, rinsing them clean of the blood. The cool water felt good against his sore knuckles and so he held them there for a moment longer before reaching for the cloth.

"Doctor Cornelius had prepared a company of twenty," Peter informed, watching as Caspian wiped his hands clean. "Is that all we need or are we going to war with the Morcostines tomorrow?"

Caspian flickered his eyes to Peter's face at the sound of his condescending tone. "Yes. More will be needed."

"So we _are_ going to war?"

Caspian sighed raggedly, answering with more irritation than he usually would have used with Peter. "No, I mean only to infiltrate the camp. Find your Jack and I will find my imposter. If I'm able to capture him then he will stand trial with the others who have committed crimes against the country."

"Against the country or against you?" Peter questioned, his eyes narrowed. Caspian froze; he was not blind to the meaning behind the question.

"To offend me is to offend Narnia," Caspian said, pushing the basin away. "It is the same way with you."

"But _I'm_ not the one being offended here," Peter said, leaning on his palms across the table from where Caspian stood. "_You_ are. And I just watched you nearly beat a man to death — a man who was in your court two days ago. Is that how you treat your subjects now?"

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" Caspian demanded, feeling vexed.

"That you're not the same Caspian I used to know."

"_He_," spat Caspian. "Was a little prince who learned too quickly that the whole world was not on his side. Instead of doing what he knew to be right — he followed the advice of Kings who were supposed to be greater than he."

Peter jaw clenched. He knew exactly what he was referring to — the failed ambush of Telmar that Peter himself had planned. "So you're making an example out of Ignatio? You're saying, 'Don't cross me or I'll flay you to within an inch of your life, humilating you in front of everyone?' "

"He _needed_ to be humilated!" Caspian slapped his palm against the table.

"Because he humilated _you_?"

Before the argument could progess any futher, they were interrupted. Doctor Cornelius entered, followed by Trufflehunter and Trumpkin. They looked from one King to the next, noticing the tension in the air. Trumpkin sniffed uncomfortably.

"The party is all prepared, your Majesty," Trufflehunter spoke up. Peter pushed himself away from the table, crossing his arms around his chest.

"Thank you, Trufflehunter," Caspian said, his eyes leaving Peter momentarily. "And you, Professor."

"Lord Ignatio, along with Habaz, Trubes, Marstain and Lostian are being detained, Lord," Trumpkin added with a nod of his head.

"We'll decide their fate when we return from the Morcostine camp. I want this over with once and for all. If the man calling himself Caspian will not come forth quietly... _we kill him_."


End file.
